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| Image credit: Photo by Creativity+ Timothy K Hamilton on Flickr Licensed under Creative Commons |
When I first found out about my husband's sex addiction, a therapist suggested that I go to a grief support group. The suggestion felt so uncomfortable to me that I never did follow through on it. I thought, "How are these people who've suffered the death of a child or partner or parent possibly going to relate to someone whose problem is an unfaithful husband?" I had lost what I thought my marriage was, and I was deeply grieving that, yet it didn't seem like "real" grief to me. But as I met others and moved through the process myself, I began to see how profoundly tied the recovery process is to grieving.
Those who love addicts have to face the grief of realizing that their life isn't what they thought and that this problem is not just going to go away. It was devastating to realize that the faithful marriage I thought I had never really existed, just as it's devastating to realize that the person you love can't stop drinking or drugging. And addicts have to face the grief of admitting addiction. My husband experienced a great deal of grief around the realization that he couldn't do what other people could do: have healthy non-sexualized relationships. I know alcoholics who have felt that grief around realizing they can't just go out for a beer with coworkers.
Grief is often said to have five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. People who are grieving may pass through them in any order or at any speed: perhaps spending very little time bargaining, while instead getting mired in depression. I know I traveled through them all:
No, no, no. This is not my life. This can't happen to me -- to us.
I hate you! You've ruined everything with your selfishness! I can't believe I have to go to meetings and work on myself, I'm not even the one with the addiction!
Maybe I can deal with you sleeping with other people, if you'll just be honest with me about it.
I don't want to get out of bed. I just don't think I can go on.
These days, I can and do get out of bed. I feel happy and peaceful instead of angry and hurt. I go to meetings and volunteer. I have my boundaries. I see now that I grieved, deep and genuine grief, for the life that wasn't. Maybe that grief support group the therapist suggested would have helped, but in a sense, 12 Step groups and other groups for addicts and their partners are a form of grief support. They have to be. And the beauty of the grieving process and the recovery process has been getting to a place of acceptance around this life I didn't plan on. So, where once I said, "This is not my life," I can now say:
Yes. This is my life, and it's still good.
This post was originally published at The Second Road.
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